21st Century Living
Reality isn’t always kind, but unconditional love is one of the most generous gifts we can give someone.
Put on your big boy and big girl pants and let truth be your mantra.
Those close to our household have taken great measures to be safe in this age of Covid-19. The household with which we have had most contact over the past several months is that of our youngest daughter and her husband, with their son, and as of September 9th, their daughter.
The plan was to add our granddaughter to our current care day schedule, once a week, but now that Covid stats in our state are so ridiculously high – as is the case in too many states in the “United” States – our two households have decided to curtail all further contact for the time being.
This decision was made, not because our personal households have faltered, but because too many households have failed all around us, making avoidance of the virus more problematic. No one enjoys the inconvenience, but because some have rebelled against the inconvenience, we are no closer to containing the virus.
Had civilization as a whole been less selfish, we wouldn’t be dealing with this upsurge in cases…we would be adjusting to a new normal that is FAR better than the ongoing abnormal we are currently experiencing.
I am so f*cking angry right now. As a result of the selfishness of far too many people, my household is currently being robbed of a healthy relationship with the newest addition to our family. Please understand me when I say, I know we are not the only individuals affected by a pandemic that hasn’t been handled correctly from the get-go. My husband and I are healthy and we want for nothing. Millions have been affected far worse than has my household with our seemingly minor personal issue.
But I beg of you, please, to allow me this mini-pity party while I mourn this inconvenient loss.
In good times and in bad – the truth is one of the most valuable assets we can own.
There’s an old hymn about not hiding your light…This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. Let us let the truth shine in all we do.
At twenty-one years of age, I was a newlywed living on the eastern side of Washington State.
In 1974 I had married my high-school sweetheart who was enrolled in the Masters of Business Administration (MBA) program at a local Washington university. I met my then-husband in high school while living in Honolulu, Hawaii where my family moved in 1965.
It was a beautiful, spring day when my husband and I walked hand-in-hand through the streets of the eastern Washington city looking for a restaurant where we could have a weekend lunch date. We approached a corner, my husband pushed the WALK button so we could cross the street, and when it flashed green we proceeded to walk across the street.
A woman approached us from the other direction on the crosswalk, pointed her finger at us, and yelled,
Thou shalt not mix with other races! You are an abomination!
I am white, my former husband, Chinese.
My happily married, joyful self was astounded at the hatred and intolerant attitude thrust our way. We had never encountered such vehemence when living in Hawaii as a young couple, so please understand how hurt and shocked I was. I was so taken aback, the first words that came out of my mouth were, “F*ck you!” My twenty-one-year-old self stood up for herself and her marriage partner in the quickest way she knew how.
As of this writing, in all my sixty-seven years of life, that is the only me-directed racism I have ever experienced. But that is not the case for people of color.
- I have never been pulled over for driving while being white.
- I’ve never been asked to prove that I belong in the neighborhood in which I was walking or riding my bike.
- To my knowledge, I have never been followed through a department store by a store employee or store security personnel while shopping as a white woman.
- Again, to my knowledge, I have never been turned down for a job for which I was highly qualified because of the color of my skin.
My current husband of twenty years and I have three daughters between us. My daughter is a beautiful mixture of Caucasian and Chinese, my husband’s daughters are Caucasian. While our girls were growing up, we instructed them on how to be safe when out and about; we helped them recognize dangerous, every-day situations they should try to avoid but we’ve never had to have “the talk” that so many parents have had to have with their non-white children, especially their sons.
- If asked, show law enforcement your hands and ask permission to get something from your vehicle’s glovebox.
- Don’t wear your hood out on the street and don’t put your hands in your pockets.
- If you get stopped, don’t run.
- And by God, please, please, just get home alive.
I have an educated knowledge and keen awareness of the issue but I lack sufficient experience to truly understand the challenges faced by many people of color. I am ignorant in the sense that other than that one incident forty-six years ago, I have not been personally hurt – emotionally or physically – in the manner in which so many have been, and still are.
I understand the sentiment, All Lives Matter, but Brené Brown offers the following in her book, Braving the Wilderness – The Quest for True Belonging and the Courage to Stand Alone:
I believe Black Lives Matter is a movement to rehumanize black citizens. All lives matter, but not all lives need to be pulled back into moral inclusion…the humanity wasn’t stripped from all lives the way it was stripped from the lives of black citizens.
It is my hope that one day soon, we will all get it right. The general public learns more each and every time an incident of racism makes it to the news, but shouldn’t we have learned something more by now, given the number of horrid headline incidents that have occurred nationwide?
We all can do better.
I will do better.
I have to believe that we all can handle the truth to get us through the toughest of times.
Truth is truth. It always has been, and it always will be.
A quote from the book Love is the Way: Holding on to Hope in Troubling Times by Bishop Michael Curry & Sara Grace
There was once a wave, bobbing along in the ocean, having a grand old time. All was well and the wave was enjoying himself. He was just enjoying the wind and the ride, until one day he noticed what was happening to the other waves in front of him. They were crashing against the shore.
“My God, this is terrible,” the wave said. “Look what’s going to happen to me!”
Then another wave came along who asked, “Why do you look sad?” The first wave says, “You don’t understand! We’re all going to crash! All of us waves are going to be nothing! Isn’t it terrible?”
The other wave’s response: “No, you don’t understand. You’re not a wave, you’re part of the ocean.”
I don’t want to live to see the day when truth is no longer our currency.
Direct focus on the truth should net us lots of superior people!
Gosh, and we sure need to be open enough to want to discover them. Am I right?
I would certainly like to live long enough for violence to be a thing of the past, and truth to be the standard by which we all live.
A healthy seed grows, no matter what. I am grateful for that fact.
Agreeing with others just so you don’t stand out – but knowing the truth is far different from what was stated – doesn’t seem like a respectable way to conduct oneself.
It is certainly a good practice to allow statements to pass through our mind filters before accepting them as absolute truth. Doubt can be healthy when weeding out that which doesn’t ring true.
Once truth is revealed, it’s really difficult for me to ignore it.
I’d rather be a vocal minority than a silent majority.
I started blogging about my Mom, Amie, after she moved in with us―after the Alzheimer’s, the congestive obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD), and the schizophrenia nearly killed her living alone. I wrote close to twenty-five posts, after which, I compiled them into my book, The Dementia Chronicles. I hoped our story would help others who found themselves as a caregiver for someone they loved.
During a visit from Phoenix with my sister and grandmother, Mom fell down the last step of our stairs and broke her hip. Within two years of that visit, Mom had moved from Phoenix to Friday Harbor, Washington to live in a separate home on our island property.
Back in May 2003, on our wedding day, Bob had to assist my Mom to walk a mere five-hundred feet from her house to our backyard where we held the ceremony. A month later, Mom was in the ER experiencing her first respiratory attack after having smoked for fifty years.
For a spell, Mom kept at bay what doctors later diagnosed as COPD. In 2010, during another visit to the ER, x-rays showed scarring within and around her bronchial tubes, invading her lungs. Mom declined steadily after that with cognition red flags frequently appearing.
By 2013, she complained of electricians stealing her checks, hackers breaking into her old college records and stealing her social security number―two of the many stand-out issues she insisted were true. By September 2014, she could no longer drive so we disabled the car engine and lied to her, telling her the car was broken and that I would drive her anywhere she wanted to go.
Mom was furious. Her anger became exacerbated, exhibited by bouts of paranoia and more detailed hallucinations. As she grew physically weaker, we knew we had to move her into our home. So, in November 2014 we set out to revamp our garage into a studio apartment. It turned out beautifully―complete with an enormous stone fireplace to keep her warm. It was so wonderful, my husband, Bob, threatened to move down there himself.
Mom fought against the move, but the only other choice was putting her into a memory care facility. With few choices on the island where we live, she would have gone to a facility on the mainland―a four-hour ferry ride or costly thirty-minute flight away – not viable options.
After transitioning her to the studio apartment, Mom tried to escape. I found her huddled by our front door gasping for air, holding her cane and, sitting dutifully next to her dog, Teddy, his own leash in-hand.
But, the hallucinations grew stronger.
Within a month of the move, the big hallucination occurred. She believed someone had snuck into her apartment, shimmied across the floor on his back over to her fireplace and had stuffed crumpled newspaper into the chimney flue causing smoke to billow. It was a cold October but she opened all her windows to air out the room anyway. There was no smoke. There was no man stuffing newspaper. What there were, were sounds―tinny “plunks” whenever the gas fireplace kicked on and off.
After a month of fighting the hallucinations and failing, I started Mom on anti-psychotics and anti-anxiety meds. Within a few days, the visions calmed.
When she normalized, I learned many things, like, how much Mom loved grilled cheese sandwiches and chocolate shakes. The in-home nurses told me I had earned an unofficial OTJ nursing degree.
One month later, after I finally figured out how to manage our lives with Mom’s, she died. I didn’t go out or to church for four months.
I still have moments when I hear Mom call for me―that’s how PTSD is. I remember screaming, anger flaring about anything and everything for six months after she died―fortunately, it was short-lived. But this is the thing, if I had a choice to do it again, I’d do it all over, the same way, but with more chocolate shakes and grilled cheese sandwiches for Mom.
Susan Wingate is a #1 Amazon bestselling author of over fifteen novels, many of which are award-winners. She writes across both fiction and nonfiction genres and typically sets her stories in the Pacific Northwest where she is the president of a local authors association. She writes full-time and lives in Washington State with her husband, Bob.
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I’ve found that avoidance doesn’t do me any good at all – as a matter of fact, it’s caused me great harm in the past. At 67 years of age, I’m wearing the mantel of transparency going forward.
I am thrilled that so many of us are exercising the control we can exert to prevent COVID-19 from spreading. We do so to protect ourselves and to protect others we will never meet.
What is so very troublesome, however, is that many still consider the virus as not being an important part of their day-to-day existence so they go out and about, not wearing masks, and not social distancing.
My concerted effort protects you – your lack of effort irresponsibly puts me and my loved ones in danger. You say you have a right to live as you please, even when doing so has proven to put others at risk, including yourself. There are daily news reports about those who previously criticized the virus as being nothing, then they have a personal experience with it and become instant, fervent evangelicals for wearing masks and distancing. “This stuff is real, folks.” or “My family member was hospitalized with it” or “I got it and I’ve never been sicker.” These victims became believers, but a day or two too late.
We are ALL inconvenienced by this virus but this is an inconvenience we can all live with, or we can die standing up for our decision to ignore proven guidelines that curtail it.
I will personally continue to protect myself and my loved ones which will also protect you. Would you please consider doing the same?
Starting today, July 1st, I am replacing my weekly good news posts with encouragement of a different sort – the value of truth. Being authentic to ourselves and toward others seems to be a healthy way to go about life. Truth is more uncomfortable than lying, but in the long run, it’s way easier. I hope you’ll enjoy the research I’ve done to provide you with these weekly notes.
Frontline workers, and every other person living in the age of Covid-19, find themselves stressed beyond their abilities. Wouldn’t it be great to have a break where you need not travel anywhere? Look at what this meditation company is doing for said people.
June is Alzheimer’s and Brain Awareness Month, a time to increase understanding of what dementia is and how it impacts the lives of those it touches. It’s also a great time to work to decrease the stigma and silence that too often accompanies an Alzheimer’s diagnosis.
Each June AlzAuthors hosts a book sale and giveaway to help caregivers and those concerned about dementia find knowledge, guidance, and support offered through shared wisdom and experience. AlzAuthors is the global community of authors writing about Alzheimer’s and dementia from personal experience. I’m proud to be a part of this growing non-profit organization, and I’m excited my eBook, Requiem for the Status Quo, is a part of this sale for only 99 cents, but only for a week!
June 15th through June 22nd you can take advantage of this biannual opportunity to purchase excellent resources on the dementia diseases for free or at reduced prices. AlzAuthors offers a variety of genres, including fiction, memoir, non-fiction, and children’s and teen literature. Most are available in Kindle and ebook, and many are available in paperback and audio. I would like to encourage you to build a library of carefully vetted books to help guide and inspire you every day.
These books are written from a deep place of solidarity, vulnerability, and love. May you find one – or two, or more! – to help guide you on your own dementia journey. Click here for the sale’s discounted offerings.